Janet Evanovich - Full Tilt

His voice was low and intimate, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"We are talking," Jamie said, trying to shift the direction in which he was traveling. "We have to figure out this thing."

"Which thing? There is more than one thing going on here at the moment."

"I'm perfectly aware of that." She stood and crossed the room, but she could still feel his touch. She didn't have to look at him to know how handsome he was in the white shirt and brown linen slacks he wore, how his dark eyes seemed to take in everything at once, even though he seemed entirely focused on her.

There was no denying the attraction she felt for him, and she only had to look into his dark eyes to know it was mutual. Lately, she found herself gazing at his handsome face when she thought he wouldn't notice. She wished she could touch his hair because she could only imagine what it would feel like. She also wondered what it would be like to feel his arms around her, and she immediately felt guilty. She had promised herself to Phillip, and she had no right to think about another man.

All at once Max came up behind her. She'd not heard him get up or cross the room. She'd simply felt a shift in the air, the sudden involuntary tensing of her body, and she knew he was close. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and her body reacted immediately.

"Jamie?"

"Leave it alone, Max," she said, stepping away. She knew she didn't have to clarify her statement.

"And if I refuse?"

She turned and faced him. "I'm not giving you a choice. I've made myself clear all along. I'm not interested."

He studied her. "Are you really that much in love with Phillip?"

"Of course I am."

"The kind of love Frankie and Deedee share?"

It was ironic that Max should ask the same question she'd asked herself earlier. "Why are you so concerned about my relationship with Phillip?"

"Because I know what it's like to marry the wrong person."

"And that's what you think I'm doing?"

He shrugged. "I don't see a whole lot of passion between you and your fiance."

"I'm content with Phillip. We might not share this great passion you speak of, but we share the things that count. We love each other, and we have a lot in common. We're comfortable together, and I enjoy his family. I've always wanted to be part of a large family, Max."

"What happened to you, Jamie?"

His voice was soft, coaxing, inspiring a feeling of confidence. Jamie fought it, but he was so sincere that she felt compelled to answer. She sighed heavily. "I don't like to rehash my past, but if I tell you will you promise to leave me alone?"

"Okay."

"My dad wasn't well, Max. He wasn't emotionally fit, so to speak. I guess he never got over losing my mother. Or maybe he'd always had problems, I don't know. Maybe that's why my mother left him. He and I never discussed it, but he was seriously depressed most of the time."

"That's why you came home instead of going with a bigger newspaper, isn't it?"

"He needed me. Wouldn't you have done the same if a family member was desperately ill?"

He looked thoughtful. "I'm glad I've never been faced with that kind of decision. Had I been in your predicament I would have tried to find a way to make it work for both of us, but that's easy for me to say because I didn't live it."

"I like knowing from one day to the next what to expect, because I never really felt secure growing up." Jamie paused. "I don't regret the past, Max, but I know it has affected a lot of decisions that I make today."

He looked confused. "So you're marrying for financial security?"

"No. Security doesn't come from having a lot of money." She shrugged. "Look, I don't expect you to understand."

"I want you to be happy, Jamie, that's all."

* * * * *

The next morning, Max and Jamie climbed into his car and headed for town.

"I've been thinking," Jamie said.

"About us?" He grinned.

Jamie made an effort not to smile. "Not."

"What's on your mind?"

"This is just a possibility, but I know someone, or rather, I know of someone who is probably capable of skulking around other people's property and not being found."

"I'm all ears."

"They call him Swamp Dog. I don't know his real name, but he's scary as all get-out. Someone once told me if anybody needed any dirty work done, they could count on Swamp Dog."

"Have you ever met him?"

"No. I don't even know if he's still alive, but I know where he used to live. It's an old ramshackle houseboat in the middle of—"

"The swamp?"

"You catch on fast, Holt. Anyway, I had trouble falling asleep last night—"

"You did?" Max looked at her. "Because I had the same problem. I thought about you a lot."

"Actually, I was on edge."

"You know the reason for that, of course."

She looked at him. "I'm sure you're going to tell me it had something to do with you."

He merely grinned.

Jamie did an eye-roll. "Now, how about we get down to business?"

"If you insist."

"Someone got close enough to the house to throw a Molotov cocktail through the window. That's quite a feat considering the property is crawling with security. So, I got to thinking, who would be capable of doing something like that without getting caught?"

"And you came up with this Swamp Dog person."

"Right. And he has the background for it. He was in Special Forces in the military. Word has it he lost it over there."

"Define 'lost it.' "

"Went off the deep end."

"Crazy as a bedbug, huh? Tell me more."

"He's a poacher. He tosses dynamite into the river. It goes off and stuns the fish. They float to the top and he scoops them up with a net. Rumor has it there was an accident, and he lost an eye."

"That would certainly make him easy to find in a crowd. How do you know where he lives?"

"Back in high school, a few of us decided to find out if he even existed. We took a boat out there. We were able to find the houseboat, but the minute we got close somebody started firing shots at us, so we hauled butt."

"You didn't see anybody?"

"No, but the game warden caught word of the poaching and decided to look into it. Somebody found him a few days later in his boat with a bullet between his eyes. Nobody could prove anything, although they suspected Swamp Dog."

"I'm already looking forward to meeting him." Max paused. "I don't know, Jamie. It sounds farfetched. Why would he be after us?"

"Maybe he's being paid to come after us by someone who doesn't want you and Frankie looking into the missing tax dollars but doesn't want to get their own hands dirty. I think it's worth checking out. He's actually the only dangerous sort of guy in the area."

"Okay, we'll pay him a visit."

Jamie laughed. "I don't think Swamp Dog accepts visitors."

"You're saying he's not going to serve us tea and crumpets."

"He may shoot us."

"Maybe I should go alone."

"You'd never find the place."

Muffin came on. "You know, I don't like to tell people what to do, but I'm going to make an exception. This whole thing sounds dangerous."

"How else are we going to find out if Swamp Dog is involved?" Jamie asked.

"I wish you could give me his real name," Muffin replied, "so I could get some information on him."

"I'm not sure anybody knows his real name." Jamie looked at Max. "We'll need a boat to get there. Lucky for us I know someone who has one. I'll try to wrap things up quickly at the office, and we can head out around lunchtime."

"I don't like this," Muffin replied. "Not one bit. You're both asking for trouble."

* * * * *

"You call this a boat?" Max asked some four hours later, as he gazed down at a small skiff that was to carry them down the river.

"You were expecting a yacht, maybe? I don't think the river can accommodate the kind of boat you're accustomed to." Jamie was a bit embarrassed about the boat; she didn't remember it being so rough looking. The color had long ago faded, one seat was broken, and she wasn't sure the motor was powerful enough to get them away from the dock.